Windows of the Soul
by FraidyCat
Summary: Sequel to The Eyes Have It. Charlie deals with the aftermath of a shooting in the FBI offices. Part 2 of Eye series.
1. Chapter 1

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Title: Windows of the Soul

Author: FraidyCat

Genre: Drama, Angst

Time line: Sequel to "The Eyes Have It"

Summary: Charlie (who else) continues to deal with the aftermath

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em - but wanna cuddle 'em.

Chapter 1

Don stood cautiously outside the lecture hall. The door stood open, and he could hear his brother's voice droning on about "As" and "Bs" and even "Zs". _He uses a lot of letters for someone who works with numbers, Don thought wryly._

He peeked around the corner. The last time he had caught Charlie mid-class, Charlie had stopped the lecture and introduced Don, and a few hundred heads had turned to him at the back of the room, seeming to expect something. He didn't want to go through that, again.

Most of the heads today were bent, hands were madly scribbling notes. An unhappy few were staring at the chalkboard in the front of the room, looking as lost as Don felt. He noticed that Charlie seemed to zero in on these students, lengthening his explanations and trying to simplify the theory. Still, Don got the idea that Charlie's office hours would be full, later.

Don frowned. Something seemed different, today. He watched a little longer, risking being spotted. Charlie pivoted away from the class and scratched something else on the board, then pirouetted back. One hand held chalk, the other rested on the cane he still used, six weeks after being shot in a terrorist raid on the FBI office. Don nodded. That was it. Every other time he saw Charlie teach - here at Cal Sci, or in a conference room at the FBI - he wandered. He was a walking talker, not a standing lecturer. He concentrated on Charlie's voice. He sounded tired, too...but that could be because of those blank looks he was still getting from some of the students. Charlie had admitted to him once that his undergraduate level courses were the most difficult for him to teach, because he found it exhausting to think and express himself on a level that could be followed by someone whose world did not revolve around mathematics. Don smiled a little as he headed down to wait for Charlie in his office. His brother got that "undergraduate" tone a lot in the FBI office, trying to present one of his theories.

Charlie's office door, as usual, was unlocked. Don entered and picked the chair that looked most comfortable. The one behind the desk. He tilted back in it a little and checked his watch. Class was due to release right about now. Right on cue, he saw multiple shadows passing the glass insert in the door - students on their way to other classes. Sometimes he would hear one scribble on the sign-up sheet posted near the door. Yep - Charlie's office hours would be full, today.

Another three minutes passed before he saw the knob turn. Charlie's backpack dropped inside the door, and he heard his brother's voice. "I understand that, Richard, but you're really putting too much emphasis on this one equation. I'm not convinced you have a thorough understanding of the basic theory."

A voice Don didn't recognize answered. "But Dr. Eppes, I've taken up half your office hours on that, already." The voice degenerated into a whine. "I'm never gonna get this."

"Have you arranged for a tutor, called one of the names on the list I gave you?"

The voice became defensive. "Not yet. I've been working a lot."

Charlie started to say something else, but the other voice interrupted him. "In fact, I have to go to work now, Dr. Eppes." There was a slightly disdainful tone to the farewell. "Thank you for your time. I'll get right on that list of tutors."

Charlie sighed as he pushed the door open further, limped heavily into the room. He started when he saw Don at the desk.

"Shit!"

Don laughed even while he marveled. He hardly ever heard words like that come out of Charlie. For one thing, it was only one syllable.

"You scared me. What are you doing in here in the dark?"

Charlie turned on the overhead light at the switch near the door and limped a few more steps to the chair facing the desk. He carefully lowered himself to it. Don's laugh faded and he found himself frowning again.

"I just got here. I knew your class would be out soon, so I waited." He cleared his throat. "You look like your leg hurts."

Charlie pulled over a second chair and then used his hands to lift his leg onto it. He shrugged. "Long class. And Professor Emory is out, this week. I took one of his classes this morning."

"You can't teach sitting down?"

Charlie crossed him arms, contemplated Don. "I'm fine, you know. Everything's on schedule. Sometimes I forget to take the cane with me."

Don knew he had to trust him on this. "Okay." He started to stand. "Want this chair?"

Charlie waved him down. "I'm good. So what are you doing here?"

Don was suddenly glad for the desk between them. "We've got a case we could use your help on."

Charlie looked away. "Oh."

"I don't want to push you," Don assured him. "You've been teaching for three weeks, now, so I was hoping…"

Charlie looked at him. "What is it?"

"Your specialty. Lots of numbers. Financial. Identity theft."

Charlie looked interested. "Can you bring the data here?" He suddenly looked embarrassed. "It's just that with helping to cover for Emory…"

"It's 15 boxes of paper, Charlie. LAPD brought us in on the case, and that's what they've got, already. When we start adding to it...I just think it would be easier for you to come to the office."

Charlie was so silent Don could hear the clock on the wall ticking.

"Which you've noticed I haven't done."

"Well...yeah. I have. It's no secret that you don't want to come back there, Charlie."

"Is there really a case?"

"What?" Don sat up straighter in the chair. "Of course there is. And we really need your help, before you ask."

Charlie reached up to rub the back of his neck with one hand. "I have a headache. Emory's class is undisciplined, unruly, uninterested…"

Don smiled. "Underclassmen?"

Charlie sighed again. "Worse. Freshmen. Required class." He looked up ruefully. "For all of us, it seems."

His brother didn't seem too offended by the conversation, yet. Don decided to risk more. "What does your counselor think?"

Charlie looked confused. "My what?"

"Your counselor. The one you started seeing after you got out of the hospital. What does he think about your coming back to the office?"

Charlie blinked at him. "You and Dad asked me to see someone."

Now Don was starting to get confused. "Yeah. And you said you would, I was there when you made the appointment."

Charlie crossed him arms again. Don's interrogator's brain interpreted it as a defensive move.

"Charlie…"

"I did." The tone was defensive, as well. "I did what I promised to do, what you asked me to do. I kept the appointment."

Don was silent. Obviously no follow-ups.

Charlie's tone moved from defense to anger. "Why would you think I would have more than one appointment? I know Merrick made you all see departmental medical staff - did you go more than once?"

Don swallowed. Maybe this had been a little too risky. Too late now. "No, Charlie...but it's different."

His brother's eyes grew darker with anger. "Why?"

"Because I'm a trained agent, for one thing. Besides that, I wasn't at the scene during the attack. And most significantly, Charlie, I wasn't shot."

Charlie looked at the clock on the wall, closed his eyes for a moment, just long enough for him to put the mask back in place. He looked back at his brother.

"I know what happened. I can 'see someone' every day for a year, and it won't change what happened. It won't change anything for Carolyn Trimble, either."

Don looked at him. "Who?"

Charlie uncrossed his arms long enough to run a hand through his hair, then dropped both hands to his lap. "Exactly," he said, his voice sad. "You don't even know her name. She was married, had two preschool-age children, came here from San Diego six months ago, even though there was no full-time position open in the L.A. office for her. Her husband got a promotion, so they came. I was the last person she ever spoke to, Don. What exactly is going to change that?"

Don squeezed his own eyes shut for a moment, then. "The temp tech." He opened them again and looked at Charlie. "How did you find out all that stuff?"

Charlie grasped his leg and lowered it from the chair. "It wasn't hard, Don. I asked. I called her husband, to tell him...tell him...I don't know...'sorry I sat on your dead wife for an hour?' Turned out it didn't matter why I called, anyway, he just needed someone to show an interest…"

Don felt a cold jab of fear. Maybe there was a lot more going on here than whether or not Charlie would come by the office.

"When did you call him?"

Charlie looked at him. "Don't worry. I'm not obsessing about her green eyes all day long." _(I'd better not tell him about the nights, Charlie thought, the dreams…)_

"It was weeks ago, before I came back to work." He grabbed his cane, began to push himself off the chair. "Speaking of which…"

Don got out of his chair and stood uncertainly behind the desk. "Listen, Charlie, I'm sorry if I haven't been around enough…"

Charlie actually laughed, he couldn't stop himself, even though he knew it would only make Don more apprehensive. "About the case..." he started, but Don interrupted him.

"If you can help, great. Like I said, we're working with LAPD on it, so we've already got experts coming out of our ears..." He smiled tentatively. "Let's face it Charlie, you're just better than they are."

Charlie smiled grimly in return. "Good try, Don." He looked at the clock again. "My office hours start in five minutes. I'll have a student…"

Don brushed past him to get to the door, but stopped long enough to squeeze his arm. "I'll try to get to the house tonight, for dinner."

"Dad would like that. I have a departmental thing, before a faculty meeting that starts at 7...but really, you should go. For Dad."

Don hesitated. "Can we have lunch, tomorrow?"

Charlie looked at him, eyes suddenly sad again. He started to move. "I don't know, Don," he said, limping behind the desk. "Call me. I don't know what new hell tomorrow will bring."


	2. Chapter 2

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Chapter 2

Don tried to put it all together on the way back to the office.

Charlie's vocabulary suddenly included swearing.

Charlie was working 16-hour days.

Charlie was showing impatience with his students.

Charlie referred to the future as some "new hell" he had to face.

Charlie still wouldn't come to the office.

He parked in the employee lot and began to walk toward his office. He took his cell phone out, flipped it open, pushed the speed dial.

"Yello."

He smiled. "Magenta, Dad."

Alan laughed. "You boys need to stop making fun of the way your old man answers the phone."

"Maybe. Or maybe our old man needs to stop answering the phone as if he were describing a lemon."

Another laugh. "Did you just call to harass me today, Donnie?"

Don was at the main door to the building, now. He stopped and stepped to the side to finish his conversation, as much for privacy as for cell reception. "Dad, how's Charlie?"

His father was silent for...Don checked his watch. Approximately 35 cents worth of time.

"Well, he's fine, Don. He's at work..." Alan's voice seemed wary. "What exactly do you mean?"

Don paced a little. "I don't know, really. I just stopped by the school, to ask for his help on a case, and he seemed...kind-of frazzled, I guess."

"You asked him to come by the office?"

Don tensed. Did his father know something? "Yes."

"What did he say?"

Don thought. "He never really said he wouldn't. He asked if we could bring him the data, and the conversation...skewed, a little. We didn't get back to it."

He heard his father sigh. "He still has a lot of nightmares."

Still? What did he mean, 'still'? This was news to Don. "I didn't realize he'd had any."

"He doesn't tell me about them. But he's woken me up, several times."

"What?"

Alan clarified. "His reaction to the nightmare isn't loud...he's not screaming, or anything. Sometimes I hear him, when I'm not asleep yet...usually I wake up because I hear the stairs creak. He goes downstairs, falls asleep on the couch with the television tuned to satellite radio."

Don stared at the sidewalk. "How often does this happen?"

"Two...three times a week."

"Why didn't anybody tell me?"

"Don." His father sounded exasperated. "Do you call us every time you have a bad dream? Besides, I rather hoped the counselor would help him with that."

Now Don sighed. "There is no counselor."

"What?"

"Charlie said he kept his promise, he went to see one...but I definitely got the impression that it was only once, right after he got out of the hospital. Probably to shut us up."

He heard his father swear. Seems he could make everyone do that, today.

"Come to dinner, tonight. We can ask him to go back."

"I'm hoping to, Dad...but Charlie won't be there. He has meetings on campus. Is he working too much? I mean, for someone who got shot six weeks ago?"

"I guess he's working more than I knew. I thought some of these late afternoons were because he was still seeing that counselor." Alan made a clucking noise. "Although why I assumed that he'd keep going, I don't know."

Don smiled darkly. "Yeah. Dad, it's probably not a good idea to tell him about that assumption."

"Already got trapped in that one, did you?"

"Right. Listen, I'm going to try and have lunch with him tomorrow. He...wouldn't commit, but...I'll try again."

Another 35 cents passed before he heard Alan's voice again.

"Memorial Day."

"Excuse me?"

"It's coming, in two weeks. Maybe we could go somewhere. Or you boys could, he might not feel like we were ganging up on him that way. Is there a math museum somewhere?"

In spite of himself, Don laughed. "Thinking not, Dad. But that's an interesting idea."

"Well, he can't go hiking, with that leg. Not yet."

Don mused. "Let me think about this. Like I said, I'll try to get by for dinner tonight."

"All right, son."

"Dad, try not to worry, okay? I could be over-reacting to this whole thing."

He heard Alan snort. "Yes. You do that all the time."

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Don waited until Charlie had the sandwich in his mouth.

Lunch the next day had turned out to be back in Charlie's office. When he said he didn't have time to leave campus, because of a class he had to cover for Professor Emory that began only 30 minutes after his own dismissed, Don brought deli to him. They spread it all out on the desk and fell to with a mission. Don was glad to see that Charlie seemed hungry...at least if food just magically appeared in front of him.

He heard the crunch of the assorted green things Charlie insisted on - something vegetarian, today - took a quick swallow of soda, and said it.

Charlie lowered the sandwich so quickly that some lettuce flew out and hit Don in the face. He picked if off and waited for his brother to chew, take a drink.

Charlie wiped his mouth with a napkin, handed another to Don. "Sorry. What did you just say? You want us to what?"

Don smiled nervously. "Take a cruise. Over Memorial Day, one of those short ones to Mexico out of Long Beach."

Charlie just looked at him, as if he'd suddenly grown another head. He ran a hand through his hair to make sure it was still there.

"My travel agent had a cancellation this morning; she's holding the cabin for us, but I have to let her know this afternoon. Come on, Charlie, it's a nice cabin. Outside, balcony."

"Travel agent? Why do you have a travel agent, Don? You never go anywhere."

Don felt himself blush. "It may not be a purely professional relationship."

Charlie raised an eyebrow, and Don hurried on. "But any more details about that will have to be pried out of me on the Lido deck, probably with at least one 'drink of the day'."

"What about Dad?"

"What about him?"

"Is he invited?"

"Charlie, do you remember our one-and-only deep-sea fishing trip together? You were 10, I was 15, Dad was…"

"...puking his guts up on my favorite sneakers."

Both brothers smiled at the memory.

Suddenly Charlie shook his head. "I'm sorry, Don. I'm very busy - you see that I can't even get a decent lunch, these days. I'm sure I'll use Memorial Day to catch up."

Don pushed. "Charlie, this isn't all about you. I could really use a break, even a short one. I need a roommate. The single supplement on these things is ridiculous."

"You can't take the travel agent?"

"I said you're not getting anything else out of me about that."

They were interrupted by a tap on the unlatched door, and it swung open farther to reveal Amita. She smiled.

"Hi Don! Good to see you!" She looked fondly at the professor. "And you're even getting Charlie to eat."

"You want half?" Charlie offered. "It's vegetarian."

She still stood in the doorway. "No, thank you. I've scheduled some time on the super computer, and I've got to be on time or I'll lose it. I just stopped by to tell you that I talked to Mark, last night."

Don saw Charlie's smile tighten around the edges. Mark? He looked at Amita.

"He's a...friend...from Boston. We met at a physics conference a few months ago." She looked back at Charlie. "Anyway, he's flying in for Memorial Day weekend. I thought we could all go out to one of the state parks, have a picnic. Larry, and you..." she looked back at Don. "You also, and your Dad, of course."

Charlie picked up his sandwich again, held it in front of him as if it could protect him, somehow. Don saw a shadow in his eyes, and frowned, even though his brother was smiling.

"Amita, that's great. I know you'll enjoy seeing Mark again...and I wish we could meet him, really."

Her posture stiffened. "You can't come?"

Charlie took a quick drink of soda. Don wondered if he realized he had grabbed the wrong one. "It's bad timing, I'm afraid. Don was just here so we could finalize our plans." He looked at his brother and the shadowed eyes held a little fear. "We're going on a cruise, that weekend."

Don turned to smile at Amita, and she smiled back. "A cruise! Wow...that's...great." She looked uncertainly at Charlie, then back to Don. "A little unexpected, but I'm sure you both need the vacation."

"Just a short one," Charlie interjected. "To Mexico."

Amita's gaze took on a little confusion. "Spanish is not one of the languages you speak, is it?"

Charlie shifted in his chair and Don looked at him. _One_ of the languages? How many languages did his brother speak? Did math count as a language?

"Not fluently, no. I can order water, ask for a bathroom...I'm sure not much more will be required."

She laughed. "Probably not even that much. Everybody speaks English, now." She looked at her watch. "Gotta make my reservation. I'm sorry you won't be here to meet Mark, but I hope you have a great time. Really." She looked at Don again. "You too, Don." She was speaking rapidly, backing away from the door, lifted a hand. "I'll see you both later!" She turned and all-but-ran down the hall.

Don looked at Charlie. The sandwich was back on the desk, and his brother hid his face in his hands.

Don grinned. "You know what this means, don't you?"

Charlie peeked through his fingers. "What?", he mumbled.

Don grinned wider. "Start packing, bro."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

He looked out the window.

Charlie was sitting on the room's balcony, already. The two brothers had just embarked, Don ruffling Charlie's hair at the last minute so that he would smile in the embarkation photo. The lines in the terminal were long for the holiday weekend, and by the time they finished the paperwork, had identifying ship badges and got to their cabin, Charlie was showing a significant limp. He had dumped his duffle on the floor and headed immediately for the balcony.

Don had looked around, moved Charlie's duffle into the closet, checked out the facilities. Now, he joined Charlie on the balcony to wait for the lifeboat drill announcement. Charlie's head was leaned back on the chaise, and his eyes were closed, but Don soon found out that he was awake.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into this."

Don sat in the lounger on the other end of the balcony and smiled over the water. "I can't, either. Although I think Amita may have done all the hard work."

Charlie opened his eyes, squinted, put on the sunglasses that lay on his lap. He tried to change the subject. "Do I really have to get you drunk on the Lido Deck before I hear about the travel agent?"

Don looked at him through his own sunglasses. "It's too late now, Charlie. You have to go."

Charlie slowly raised his head, took off his glasses. He glared at Don. "What do you mean?"

Don looked back to the water. "The travel agent is a friend of Megan's. I've never actually met her. Since Megan often watches her kids when she and her husband go out, I probably never will."

Charlie groaned, dropped his head back. "So this whole thing was a set-up."

Don took off his own glasses and turned the chaise away from the glare a little. He looked at Charlie. "No. I just mentioned that I was trying to think of something you and I could do together over the holiday, that wouldn't be too hard on your leg. Seems her friend had just called that morning and offered her the cabin, but Megan said she had plans to go on a hike with Larry over Memorial Day, turned it down. She called her friend back and wrangled it for us."

Charlie didn't say anything, or open his eyes again.

Don kept going. "Sounds like Larry won't be at Amita's picnic either."

Charlie sighed a little. "Yes he will. He and Megan decided to take Amita and Mark along; just a short half-day hike, ending with a picnic." He lazily turned his head toward Don and opened his eyes again. "Dad's going, too."

"Dad? Hiking?"

Charlie smiled. "No, not on the hiking part. He'll stay behind and set up the picnic."

"They talked him into being a fifth wheel with two couples?" Don felt a little guilty. Maybe he should have tried harder to include his father this weekend.

Charlie's smile faded. "Not exactly. Three couples. He's taking The Caterer."

Don let that sink in. His brother shifted in the lounger, closing his eyes again. "I just feel like I'm going to come back and everybody will be engaged to everybody else."

Don laughed a little. "Come on, Charlie. I don't think any one of them is that rash. These are all fairly new…arrangements." He stood and walked along the balcony until he was closer to his brother, leaned his back against it and faced him. He tried to make his tone teasing. "But let's say that they all did. Would one of those pairings disturb you?"

Charlie didn't answer right away. Finally, he spoke quietly. "Let's just say there's one that wouldn't."

"Go on. Please. This is interesting."

Charlie opened his eyes again, glowered at Don. "Get out of my sun." Don didn't budge, so Charlie sighed a little more and admitted it. "Larry and Megan. I think they're a good couple. They seem very different on the surface, but on a deeper level they have many similarities, and several complimentary qualities."

Don grinned. "Too many syllables, Charlie. You're on vacation." He decided to push it. What was Charlie going to do, jump overboard? "What about Dad and The Caterer?"

The brown eyes looked up at him. "She's not Mom," he said simply, and Don felt the conversation sliding out of his control. _That_ … _that_ he wasn't going to push, right now. "Okay," he hurried on. "Amita and Mark."

Charlie sat forward on the lounger, refused to meet his eyes. "I've never even met Mark. He could be the exact man I would pick for Amita, I don't know. I just wouldn't pick him yet, I guess."

Don looked at him with concern. "Because?"

"Because I feel like I missed something, didn't recognize something soon enough…or saw something that really wasn't there…basically, I feel like an idiot."

Don walked back to the second chaise, dragged it closer to Charlie. He sat down again. "Nobody else thinks you're an idiot, Charlie," he said gently. "She doesn't look at you like she's looking at an idiot."

Charlie's head came up. "Maybe not. She doesn't look at me the way she used to, either."

Don decided to change the subject. He took out his wallet, extracted a sheet of small, red, circular stickers. "I got these in an office supply store," he began conversationally, and handed it to Charlie. "One for each of us. I was hoping it would be more subtle than a tie on the doorknob."

Charlie accepted the stickers, but looked confused. "I don't get it."

Don looked at him. "Charlie. I keep forgetting you never lived in a dorm. Even the year you lived in that apartment near campus, you lived alone. No roommates."

Charlie just looked at him.

Don shrugged. "If one of us comes back to the room, and there is one of these little red dots near the key slide…well…we just find something else to do for a few hours, okay? It's a big ship."

Charlie was either getting a sunburn already, or blushing. He tried to hand the sheet of stickers back. "I don't think I'll be needing quite this many."

Don laughed. "Just put it in your wallet." He watched while Charlie did as he was told. As his brother reached to return his wallet to his back pocket, Don put out a hand to stop him. Charlie looked at him again. "Do you need anything else for that wallet?"

Confusion. It was nice to be able to see every one of Charlie's emotions in his eyes, again. He was letting his guard down, at least with Don. "What do you mean?"

Don grinned. "Come on. I 'protect and serve', as they say."

This time he knew Charlie was blushing. "Knock it off, Don."

The moment was interrupted by the announcement of the lifeboat drill. They stood and walked back through the room. Don stopped at the closet, grabbing the life jackets. He tossed one to Charlie, smiled.

"Here, Little Bro," he teased. "Just in case you get in over your head."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Charlie shifted uncomfortably in the theater-style seat. "I shouldn't have had so much to eat."

Don smiled. "This is a cruise. I'm an FBI agent. I can tell you, it's a federal law. Besides, have you ever had better lobster?"

"I just hope I don't have it again," Charlie grumbled, and Don laughed.

"You don't have to stay for the show. Maybe you should walk the deck for a while. There's another show, later." He shoved something at Charlie. "Find the shore excursion desk. We'll be in Ensenada in the morning — sign us up for something."

Charlie looked over the list quickly. "You should go to the golf resort. You'd love that."

Don's eyes lit up. "Yeah. I haven't gone golfing in…I don't remember the last time I went golfing. I'd probably embarrass myself." He glanced at Charlie. "And what about your leg?"

Charlie smiled at him. "We're not glued together this weekend, Don. You should do what you want — it's your vacation, too." His brother looked at the ship newsletter again. "I see a couple of mostly bus tours, here. I'll go on one of those." He started to push out of the seat, but Don stopped him.

He waited until Charlie was looking at him. "Seriously. This is a tiny cruise, one port of call. I don't mind a bus tour."

Charlie smiled again, and it reminded Don of before. Before the shooting. Before Charlie started hiding.

"Seriously," Charlie said. "I'm thinking of the winery tour." His smile broadened at the look on Don's face. He pushed up again, grabbed Don's shoulder to steady himself as he teetered between the rows for a moment. He looked down, still smiling. "I'll sign you up for golf."

He started to turn and leave, but Don reached out and stopped him again. "Charlie. Don't forget our agreement."

The smile faltered. "Not even e-mail?"

He shook his head. "Stay out of the internet café. Walk the deck. Gamble. Swim. But stay out of the internet café."

Charlie regarded him coolly. "That is not…that is not…"

"That is exactly what we agreed, last night. No lap top or use of the ship's computers for you, no badge or gun for me. Three days, Charlie. We can do it."

Charlie smiled again. "Right." He groaned a little, rubbed his stomach. "I really have to walk."

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The cabaret show was more risqué than Don was expecting for seven at night, although this was not an entirely unpleasant discovery. Afterwards, he strolled the ship for a while himself. He was surprised to see Charlie sitting on one of the poolside lounges on the Lido deck; more surprised to see him eating an ice cream cone. He walked over and stood in front of him. "I thought you already ate too much."

Charlie looked up, a little guilty. "Me, too." He regarded the ice cream dripping down his hand. "I don't know how this happened."

Don laughed, watched a young woman walk by with an enticing-looking…drink. "I'm finding a bar," he decided. "Not driving, tonight." He looked back at Charlie. "Catch the next show, it's pretty good."

Charlie nodded, his mouth buried in ice cream again. Don grinned and turned away.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

He didn't hear Charlie come back to the cabin, thanks in part to the alcoholic content of that drink. It had been a long day, and he only managed one. The drink and exhaustion served as an effective one-two combination, and he was out as soon as he hit the sheets. He barely felt the gentle roll of the ship.

He wasn't sure at first what woke him up. He grabbed his watch off the bedside table and squinted at it. 3:30. In the morning?

Then he heard it again. His brother's low moan. He climbed out of the bed and walked around the slight partition that divided the room, to where the couch had been converted to a bed by some cruise ship fairy before he got back to the cabin last night. Moonlight from the window showed Charlie curled on his side, hugging a pillow. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, and at first Don thought he was talking to him. Then he realized that Charlie was talking in his sleep. He wondered if he should wake him up. He was still contemplating this when Charlie moaned again, flopped onto his back. He threw an arm over his face, moved his legs a little under the sheets. "Please." His voice was almost a whisper, but in the still of the cabin Don heard a fear than translated itself into his own heart. Had Charlie been reliving the shooting every night for six weeks? Don approached the bed.

"Charlie?"

Closer, he saw his brother shudder, and leaned over to touch his shoulder. Charlie almost slammed into his face when he suddenly sat up, gasping, eyes wide. This close, even in the dark, Don could see the terror. He sat down carefully on the bed.

"Charlie," he repeated. "You awake?"

Charlie blinked a few times, tried to control his breathing. His fists clenched in the sheets. He looked away. "I'm awake."

Don waited for the breathing to become more even. "That was intense."

Charlie drew in a breath, ran a shaking hand through wild sleep hair, looked at Don again. "I've had worse."

Don winced. "Want to talk about it?"

Charlie started to move the covers. "No. Do you know what time it is?"

"A little after 3:30."

Charlie shivered. "I think I'll just go take a shower and get dressed. I'll sit on the deck until we go to breakfast." He climbed out of the bed, looked down at Don. "I'll be okay," he assured him, sadly. "I do this most nights, now. You should get some more sleep." He tried to smile, failed. "I don't want you to embarrass yourself on the golf course."

Don reached out to grab his wrist as he passed, and Charlie jerked back hard enough to lose his balance, swore quietly as he put more weight on his injured leg than he wanted to. He looked at Don again. "Sorry. Not a good time to surprise me."

Don grimaced. "My fault. It's late, Charlie, or early…you sure you can't get back to sleep?"

His brother turned, limped toward the bathroom. "Oh yeah," he said. "I can pretty much guarantee that."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Don was not having a good game.

Not only had it been too long since he'd played, he kept thinking about Charlie.

How scared, and sad, he had sounded after that nightmare.

How the haunted look was back in his eyes, this morning.

He lined up a putt. He hoped Charlie was having a good time.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Charlie perched on a barstool at the tasting counter, sipped the cabernet, closed his eyes. Maybe he should drink more. Right before bed.

"That's good, isn't it?"

He opened his eyes, found a redhead smiling at him. Green eyes, and that was a little disturbing…but they were so different from the green eyes he saw in his dreams every night. They were bright, twinkling, spilling light — anything but vacant. He smiled back. "Yes. What did the sommelier say? 'Fruity and Heady?'"

She giggled, and he actually felt his toes curl. What was that?

"I saw you on the ship, last night. Eating ice cream, by the pool."

He felt himself blushing. This was ridiculous. "Yes. I can't seem to stop eating."

He felt those green eyes travel down, back up. "I don't think you have to worry about that."

He took another sip of wine. Mostly, he wanted to lift the glass again to see if he was the same color as the liquid inside.

"My name is Amy."

He lowered the glass. "Charlie."

She smiled again, and everything about her face changed, the smile involved it all. "I took the cruise with a girlfriend," she said. "We live in L.A., just wanted to do something fun this weekend. It's been a long winter."

He nodded. "I live in Pasadena — teach in L.A. My brother suggested this trip. Long winter for us, too."

"You're a teacher? That's nice. My sister is a teacher."

"And you?"

"I work in a dayspa. I'm a stylist." She contemplated his head. "I'd love to get my hands on that hair."

He laughed. "If I were thinking about a haircut, I might take you up on that. But I like my hair the way it is. Sorry."

She shook her head. "Charlie, I never said I wanted to cut your hair. I just said I'd love to have my hands in it."

Charlie was suddenly very glad he was sitting down.

She laughed at his discomfort. "So was that your brother I saw talking to you by the pool last night?"

He tried to pull himself together, stop imagining her hands in his hair. "What? Oh, oh, Don. Right. My brother. He's golfing today."

"Is he a teacher, too?"

"He's a…he's in law enforcement." Why didn't he tell her Don was an agent with the FBI? Charlie squirmed a little. He knew why. What was sexier than an agent with the FBI? The redhead would dump him faster than he could calculate Pi.

She had asked him something else, and he had missed it. "I'm sorry. What?"

"I asked you what you teach. My sister teaches third grade."

"That must be a challenge. I teach mathematics. At a university."

Her eyes widened. "Wow. I bet you could balance my checkbook."

He smiled.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Don was miserable.

He was hot, and sweaty. He had shot a 100 on a par 71 course. He had a headache.

Hopefully, a quick shower would solve everything but the golf score. He grabbed his key card out of his pocket and checked his watch. Dinner in two hours. If Charlie wasn't in the cabin, he'd just leave a note for him to meet up in the main dining room.

He paused, about to swipe the card.

Was Charlie kidding?

There was not a little red dot next to the key slide. He smiled. Funny, Charlie.

He started to swipe the card again, hesitated. What if he really did walk in on something? He shook his head. This was a joke, it had to be. He really, really wanted that shower. His hand hovered over the key slide.

He sighed in frustration as he turned away. He was going to kill Charlie for this.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

He slept the sleep of the exhausted.

He woke up because his leg tickled.

He couldn't quite get his mind to work, but he knew that couldn't be right.

In the beginning, it had burned. Then, a dull ache settled deep in his thigh that never seemed to go away, just got worse the longer the day went on. There had also been a drive-you-crazy, unscratchable itch, while the flesh was healing. But his leg had never tickled.

He tried to move, see if that would help.

"I'm sorry. I woke you up."

Charlie's eyes popped open, slammed shut again. Maybe she hadn't noticed.

Fingers were tracing the scar, now. Feather-light.

"What happened?"

He opened his eyes, again. She was looking at him, those brilliant green eyes clouded with sympathy. He opened his mouth to speak, but only a croak came out. He cleared his throat and tried again.

"I was shot."

She kept looking at him.

"Did…did you hear about the terrorist attack on the L.A. FBI office?"

She nodded.

"I was in there." He'd never actually said it before. During his one appointment with the shrink, he hadn't said anything. G-d. It sounded so much simpler than it felt.

Her eyes filled, and he felt a tear drop onto the scar. It spread through him, entered his blood stream and traveled all the way to his own eyes. He turned his head so she wouldn't see him cry.

Soft hair rested on his chest, and a hand cupped his face.

"It's all right," she whispered. "It's over, now. You're all right."

He couldn't stop crying. "But I'm not," he choked out. "It's made me…ugly."

"It's just a scar, Charlie, it's not important…"

He tried to move, again. He was crying harder. "Not…not that one. Th…Th…That one's nothing." He gripped her head, an ear still to his chest. "That's not the only scar I have."

She was petting his cheek, and he turned into it, made himself listen to her soft voice. "Scars only happen after you heal," she said. "If you're talking about the gaping hole in your heart…that's not a scar, yet."

He shouldn't have listened.

Roughly he sat up, forcing her to do the same. He gulped a few times while they stared at each other. "How did you see that?" he hissed.

She smiled sadly, caressed his face once more before she stood, wrapping the sheet around her and walking away, leaving him naked on the bed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

He strode purposefully down the corridor, weaving occasionally to the other side. He wasn't sure if he was finally feeling the ship move, or feeling the two margaritas he had gulped when he first got back on board, so hot, and couldn't take a shower. Probably both.

Red dot or not, he was going in. Charlie hadn't shown up for dinner, and repeated searches of the ship hadn't revealed him. Don had even tried the internet café. It had been almost five hours since he got back onboard. He had seen another show. Played Bingo, of all things. He was still hot, still sweaty, and this time, he was going in.

He reached their cabin, and sighed in relief. No red dot. He ran the key card and pushed open the door, flipped on the lights. He made an immediate stop at the closet to grab his duffle, and was in the shower within 60 seconds. Life-giving water. He let it wash away the sweat, the golf game. He hung his head and thought about what he should say to Charlie.

Fifteen minutes later he emerged from the steamy room in t-shirt and sweats. The curtains were still open and he could see Charlie sitting out on the balcony. As he approached the door, the glint of metallic foil in the trash can caught his eye, and his mind registered it. Trojan. He shook his head. That solved one mystery. Guess that red dot hadn't been a joke. Both beds were neatly made, now. Cruise ship cabin fairy must have been here, already.

He opened the door to the balcony and stood. Charlie was in the chaise at the far end. He didn't have the balcony lights on, and it was difficult to see any details, Don dove in without preamble.

"You okay?"

He was pretty sure Charlie wasn't asleep, but it took a while for his brother to answer.

"I don't think so."

Don was so used to Charlie's denials that anything was wrong, it was all he ever expected to hear. This was different. This was unexpected. This made his freshly showered skin crawl. He stepped onto the balcony and dragged a chair as close to Charlie as he dared, sat down.

"What happened?" He meant _"today",_ what had happened to Charlie _"today"_, and was surprised again by the answer.

"I just went to see my brother," Charlie began, "that's all. It was his birthday, and we went to lunch." He turned his head slightly toward Don. "I think he enjoyed it; I know I did. We don't spend a lot of time together that doesn't involve work."

Don winced, waited.

"Anyway…" Charlie turned back to look over the water. "Anyway, I took him back to his office, after. He works on the fourth floor. I came back down in the elevator with a friend. She works there, too."

Charlie's voice was detached, as if he were telling a story about someone else, and it was starting to freak Don out a little.

"On the ground floor, we walked together for a little while. I remember her splitting off from me, to go to another area. The next thing I really remember is sitting on the floor, leaning up against some filing cabinets." Charlie shifted a little on the lounge. "Well, most of me was on the floor. Part of me was sitting on a dead woman. Her eyes were still open, and she was staring at me." Charlie sighed, and Don heard the pain of it. "She still stares at me, almost every night."

Charlie dropped his feet over the sides of the chaise and sat up. He continued to speak. " I have to believe what they tell me, about what happened. About who came into my brother's office and killed 13 people, wounded 17 more…it scares me, because it doesn't make any sense to me. I can't think of a way to make it not happen again. Not just to me, to anybody…to my brother. It was his office. They could come back."

Don's voice was a whisper. "Charlie…"

Charlie rearranged himself on the chaise and continued his story. "I think people know I'm broken, but they don't know how much. I try not to let them see that. I try not to let myself see that…and then my brother, he suggested that we take a vacation together." Charlie looked at him again, quickly back out to the sea. "I didn't really want to come. It would be hard to pretend for that long."

Don winced again.

Charlie's voice grew even softer.

"And I met this woman. This incredible woman. At first, I thought she might just help me forget, for a few hours…and we were compatible enough. But then…then she looked right through me, and she saw what no-one else has, and that scared me, too. For the same reasons. It doesn't make any sense to me, how she could see that. And I can't think of a way to make it not happen again. Not just with her, with anybody. I don't want anybody to see that, I don't want it to be true. I don't know if I can be fixed."

Don could hear his own heart beating. He had known that Charlie had been deeply affected by the shooting, but Charlie was right — he hadn't known how much. After Charlie was silent for a time, Don took up the story.

"I have a brother," he said. "Amazing man. He's very helpful to me in my work, and extremely effective in his own." He cleared his throat. "He has a very tender heart, always has, it's one of the amazing things about him…how much he cares. I've never been very good at protecting that heart, because it scares me a little. I worry that a person can't be that vulnerable for very long, and I worry about what will happen to him when he figures that out."

Charlie was looking at him, Don could tell, even though he was looking out off the balcony. "But I think that I've been wrong. I think that vulnerability is the core of his strength…it enables him to believe so much in the rest of us, even when we don't deserve it."

He looked at Charlie, now, who was still looking at him. Their eyes met in the darkness. "My brother is really scared, right now, and I hate that. I should have been more careful. I've been letting him be scared alone. He would never do that to me."

He looked back at the water. "Do you think he knows? Do you think my brother knows that he can count on me, now? That I will sit here all night, and keep away any eyes that try to sneak in? That I will stand beside him forever? That I trust him to find himself, again?"

He sensed movement on the chaise, heard Charlie sigh again as he settled into it more. "I think he knows." His voice was getting sleepy, and Don saw his head loll to the side a little. "Past the part that's frightened. Past the hole. Deeper." Charlie yawned. His voice slurred a little in exhaustion. "I think he knows that his brother loves him."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Don had been awake for almost an hour. He was watching the sun come up over the water, and it was amazing. They would be at sea all day, today, on the way back to Long Beach. It was an incredible feeling, to see the blue of the sky meet the blue of the ocean on every horizon, know that he was in the middle of it…. He was surprised the lightening sky hadn't awakened Charlie, yet. Surprised, and relieved.

After Charlie had been sleeping about half an hour last night, Don had returned quietly to the cabin, just long enough to snatch the blankets off the bed closest to the balcony, and a pillow. He had covered Charlie with one of the blankets and settled in the other lounger himself. It was uncomfortable, after several hours, but he had promised. He had let himself drift — it was easier to feel the motion of the ship out here, and it rocked him to sleep. This close to Charlie, he was sure he would hear if there was another dream. He wasn't really sure what he'd do about it if there was, but he'd cross that bridge later.

When he first awoke, he went back into the cabin briefly, pulled some kinks out, used the bathroom. Now, he was just standing at the rail, feeling the peace of the sunrise.

He glanced at Charlie again. His brother hadn't moved since it had been light enough to see him, and that was almost as amazing as the sunrise. He had always been a frenetic sleeper. Don had worried a little last night that Charlie's normal restlessness would twist him off the lounge, but his brother was clearly exhausted. He saw now that there was rapid eye movement behind the closed lids. Charlie was dreaming. Don felt a stab of dread. He had said he would fight back the nightmare for Charlie, and he wanted to. He just didn't know how. Maybe wake him up real quick, before it really got going?

He opened his mouth to speak Charlie's name at the same time the brown eyes opened. Charlie focused on him, smiled lazily. "I was dreaming."

He had smiled, it couldn't be bad, could it? "What about?"

Charlie's leg was stiff and he started stretching in preparation for getting up. His smile broadened. "Amy."

Don smiled back. "Amy is the 'incredible woman', I take it."

Charlie threw the blanket off, pushed against the lounge. Don leaned over and grabbed his upper arm to help him up.

"Thanks. Yeah." Charlie limped the few steps to join Don at the rail, looked at the sky, still pink in some places. "That's pretty incredible, too."

"So you haven't told me about her."

Charlie's voice still had a just-awake dreamy quality. "Red hair. Green eyes — like Carolyn Trimble's — but different. They spark, like a fire cracker, and go dark when she's…when she's very sad, or very happy…Her eyes reflect what she sees in other people, I think." He looked at Don, smiled again. "And when she smiles…Don, when she smiles, which is a lot, everything in her face changes, everything participates." He made a turn to go back into the cabin, but kept talking. "She's funny, and smart. I can tell she reads a lot." He opened the door and headed for the bathroom. Don came in behind him, and heard him still talking. "Her mind is all over the place, we talked for almost three hours, and she described this hysterical little tattoo she wants to get, but she says she never will because, get this, she's afraid of needles, just like I am…" The bathroom door shut, and Charlie was still talking.

Don stood in the middle of the room.

Did his little brother just fall in love, in one day?

He plopped onto the end of the bed. Somehow, this woman had not only seen through all of Charlie's defenses, she had mirrored his own tortured soul back to him, and he was able to start fully comprehending his own horror. He had been able to describe it — in a weird, third-person kind of way, but still, he had owned it in a way he had so far been unable to achieve.

He had to meet this woman.

Don dressed for the day, and was ready and waiting when Charlie emerged from the bathroom, still shaking his wet hair like a dog. He was also still talking.

"…spa in L.A., and she likes my hair," he finished, grinning.

Don felt himself smiling, again. "You got her number, right? At least here on the ship? Do you think she'd join us for breakfast, or is it too early?"

The grin fell off Charlie's face, and Don wondered what he's said wrong this time.

Charlie opened the closet and began to dig around in his duffle. "I have her cabin number. I'm just not sure she'd want me to use it, now."

Don was confused. "Why? Did she ask you not to?"

Charlie stayed in the closet. "No," he mumbled. "I kind-of embarrassed myself."

Don hid a grin. "Charlie, they say that happens to every guy, now and then. Although speaking on a personal level, I've never…"

Charlie popped out of the closet, glared at him. "Not that! Geez, Don…if I had to deal with that on top of everything else, I just would have gone over the rail last night."

Don laughed. "Call her. Whatever happened, if she really doesn't want to hear from you, she won't answer the phone, right?"

Charlie looked at him uncertainly. "I guess. She's onboard with a girlfriend, she could have her answer…"

Don encouraged him. "Exactly. Go ahead. I'm starving."

Charlie tentatively approached the telephone, as if he expected it to hurt him, somehow.

"Do you want some privacy?"

Charlie looked up frantically. "Don't leave. Don't go. Something bad could happen."

Don didn't know whether to laugh, or cry, so he just sat back down on the end of the bed.

Charlie drew in a deep breath, picked up the receiver, pushed a few numbers — from memory, Don noted, but all numbers were floating around in Charlie's brain, just waiting to be called to action, so that wasn't really unusual.

"Hi…is this Amy?"

Don looked at Charlie's reflection in the mirror. He looked like he might throw up. Then, suddenly, a smile.

"Yes, it is. Listen, my brother and I were wondering if you would like some breakfast?"

He laughed. "Actual food." He lowered his voice. "We can deal with your other appetites later, maybe?" He saw Don watching him in the mirror and blushed, but Don knew the next thing he said was more for his benefit than Amy's. "I have another little red dot."

Don shook his head and smiled, and Charlie laughed again. "Good. Five minutes, then. We'll meet you by the main pool."

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Three-and-a-half minutes later, Charlie paced the deck around the pool so rapidly Don was afraid he'd lose his balance and fall in.

"Maybe she changed her mind." Charlie stopped walking and paled — actually _paled_ — in front of Don.

"Charlie, calm down. We're early."

Don was jostled by someone apparently hungrier than he was, and he was momentarily distracted while he glared at his back. When he looked back at Charlie, his brother's face was completely different. He was smiling, relaxed, and yet animated. Don followed his gaze and saw a redhead coming their way, also smiling. Charlie was right — her entire face was participating. He looked back at Charlie's face.

Son of a bitch.

Charlie was in love.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Fair warning to those about to be heartbroken: "Angst" was always in the story description! Also, one must always assume a triology is in the works…**

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**Chapter 8**

By the time Amy reached them, Don noticed that another woman was with her. This one had dark blonde hair, seemed a little older; more reserved.

"This is the friend I'm traveling with, Lisa. And you must be Don!"

Amy stepped into his space to give him a quick hug, and Don checked out Lisa. He had heard half of the telephone conversation, when had there been a set-up? Some deeply buried alarm bell went off inside. There was something familiar about Lisa.

He fell into step with her behind Charlie and Amy, got in line at the cafeteria. Don was last in line; Charlie and Amy were talking, already laughing at something, then Lisa, her back to him. Whoever she was, she must have decided she didn't like him already.

He took the opportunity to study her from behind. Her stance. The way her eyes traveled the room, in a pattern, and then back again. When a hurrying passenger bumped into Amy, apologized, Don didn't miss Lisa's hand creeping under her sweater…ready to grab a piece? He cleared his throat again. He wanted to see her face. "You ladies are both from L.A.?"

She glanced back at him briefly. "Yes. We work together." She turned back to the buffet line, then, but Don had seen enough.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Breakfast over, the four strolled the deck, decided to check out the passenger photos to see if there was anything they wanted. Don waited until Charlie and Amy were on opposite sides of the corridor — Lisa closer to Amy.

"Charlie, I think I'll check out the gift shop, find something for Dad…" he forced himself to grin. "You and Amy can spend some more time together. Do you still want to play in that poker tournament this afternoon in the casino?"

Charlie looked a little surprised. "Yes, of course. Amy and I aren't rabbits, Don, we don't have to run off to the cabin every time we see each other. I'd like to help pick out something for Dad…"

Don laughed. "I didn't say you did. I was thinking you should sit next to the pool and eat ice cream."

Amy joined them, then, took Charlie's arm. "Please, can we go play Bingo? I had a friend who won another cruise playing Bingo."

Charlie looked at her. "If I could study the corresponding data — number of balls, type of container, the force with which that container is turned, and the number of times, and by whom…"

Amy started to drag him off. "Bring some paper. You can do that, I'll play your card." She looked back over her shoulder. "You two coming?"

Lisa started to follow, but Don moved to block her path. He smiled at Amy. "Tried Bingo yesterday. Maybe Lisa and I will just keep walking, for a while."

Amy smiled impishly, raised her hand in farewell and she and Charlie turned a corner. Don turned to face Lisa. There were several other passengers in the corridor, looking at pictures.

"Perhaps you'd like to join me in the library? We just passed it, and it was empty."

Silently she walked beside him. A few feet later they were there, and sat opposite each other at the room's only small table.

She spoke first.

"Agent Eppes."

He raised an eyebrow. "Agent Wilkerson. How have you been since Quantico?"

"Quite well."

"You went directly into Witness Protection when we graduated. Still there?"

She blinked at him, refused to answer.

"Who is she?"

She laid her hands on the table. "Look, the moment I saw you on deck that first night, I contacted my superiors. I warned them this might happen. I wanted to fly her back from Ensenada, but they had other ideas."

"Who is she?"

"Tammy Richardson, originally. She was a third-grade teacher in Chicago. Her live-in was with Chicago PD, a whistle blower. He was making cases and testifying against the biggest dirty-cop ring we've ever faced…underworld connections, the whole nine yards. A convenient home invasion left them both for dead — he was actually dead, but it seems he had already transferred certain documents to Tammy. She was able to make the last case he was working on."

"How at-risk is she?"

She leaned back in the chair. "We move her every six months. We're dealing with dirty cops, here, with the mafia, all the people who'd like to do them favors…I can't count the number of people who would like to see her dead. We just moved her to L.A. two months ago."

"How could you let her hook up with my brother?"

"I didn't know who he was, at first, and after I did — not only was it too late, I was hoping it was just a shipboard fling. I was trying to fly under the radar. I didn't even know we were meeting you for breakfast until we got there."

"Charlie doesn't fling. And I don't want him exposed to any more danger."

She nodded. "When I did the research, I found out that he was one of the vics of the attack on your office. I'm sorry about that, by the way, the whole thing. Really."

He formed his hands into a "V", rested his chin on them. "I want her relocated now."

She nodded again. "Already taken care of. My cover is blown, even if hers isn't. A team will meet us at the pier in the morning."

"Does she know that?"

"No, She never knows when we're moving."

"Do you think she'll tell Charlie anything?"

Agent Wilkerson was silent. Finally, "Like I said, she doesn't know we're moving, so she thinks she's got another four months with him. There's no reason to spill everything now, so I don't think so…" She shifted a little in the chair. "At least, I hope not. For his sake."

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

He was whimpering a little in his sleep, and she raised her head up off his chest to kiss him, kept kissing until he started kissing back, and she knew he was awake.

She smiled at him, ran a hand through his hair. "I love this hair," she said.

He smiled back. "And to think I just told Don we weren't rabbits."

She giggled. "Poor guy. You keep red-dotting his cabin."

He shifted until he was sitting up in the bed, leaning against the wall. She returned to the pillow, curled on her side, looked at him.

His voice was apprehensive. "You really would see me again, back in L.A.?"

"Despite evidence to the contrary, Charlie, I don't usually fall into bed with guys twice during the first 24 hours of our relationship. I would like this to be something more."

She yawned. "I'm just saying, maybe you need to do some work, first."

He frowned. "You're going to push the therapy thing?"

"I never said that. I'm not about to wait for you to become perfect, or anything. It's certainly not like I am. I just think that maybe you need to face some fears, learn to accept some others…maybe therapy would help that, I don't know. Maybe you just need to be honest with yourself, your family…your brother obviously cares about you a great deal."

He didn't say anything and she moved down a little to run light fingers around his scar, again. "You know, Charlie, these people, the people who did this…they don't have to define who you are." She kissed the scar, then looked directly at him. "We decide who we are."

He slid back down in the bed, pulled her up to meet him. They turned into each other and he wrapped his arms around her, buried his face in her hair. The ship rocked them gently, and he held on.

For now, that was enough.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Charlie appeared over Don's shoulder, breathless. "Am I late?"

Don looked up, took another drink. "No. Sit down, The tournament doesn't start for twenty minutes, and I already lost all I'm going to in the slot machines. Decided to grab the table when I saw it open up."

Charlie pulled out the other chair, sat. He looked at the mug Don replaced on the table. "Is that coffee?

"Yeah…why?"

"What's in it?"

Don looked at his brother quizzically. "Nothing. You know I take my coffee black."

Charlie looked at the clock over the bar. "It's almost 3 in the afternoon. You're on a cruise. I just didn't expect to find you sitting in a bar…drinking coffee."

Don had developed a headache right after his conversation with Agent Wilkinson, and his voice showed a certain annoyance. "I'm about to play some serious poker, Charlie. I need to keep my wits about me." Don took another sip, replaced the mug. "And I didn't expect you to really use any of those red dots, either."

Charlie looked at him. "What's wrong?"

Damn. He was not going to enjoy this. He had promised to help Charlie, and now he knew that the poor guy was about to get hit dead center between the eyes, and Don couldn't do anything about it. "Nothing. Just a headache."

Charlie looked chagrined. "I'm sorry. Did you come back to the cabin, for aspirin, or a nap or something? I'm sorry."

Hmmm. Not rabbits? "No, Charlie, it's okay. I didn't go back. But I think I did fall asleep on a deck chair. Probably got too much sun."

"Do you want to go back for something now? There's time, before the tournament."

Damn. Damn. Stop being so…Charlie.

"It's not that bad, Charlie, really. I'm sure the caffeine will take care of it."

"Okay." Charlie smiled tentatively. "Don. I wanted to thank you."

He frowned. "For what?"

"You know, everything. This vacation. Letting me talk. Sitting on the balcony with me all night."

Damn. Damn. Damn. "I'm just sorry I wasn't more…helpful…before."

Charlie raised a hand, approached his hair, but then dropped it again. "That wasn't your fault. I never said I needed help."

"But you will, from now on, right?" Don heard the plea in his own voice and hoped Charlie didn't, but could tell from the confusion on his face that he did.

Charlie tried to reassure him. "I've been thinking…I might go back to that doctor. Actually say something, this time."

"What?"

"Before, when I kept the appointment just to get you and Dad off my back…I didn't really talk to him." Charlie tried to smile again. "Ever try to sit and stare at someone for 55 minutes?"

Don shook his head. "You didn't say _anything_?"

"Well…I said, 'I don't want to talk about this.' And then I didn't."

Don grimaced. "Charlie…"

His brother interrupted him. "That's what I'm trying to say. Now that I've said it all, once, I think I can do it again. Maybe. And that's because of you — and Amy."

Don looked away, pretended to be watching the people. They were silent for a while.

Charlie drummed his fingers on the table. "You don't like her, do you?"

Don looked back at him quickly. "I didn't say that."

"Maybe not with words. But you've had this weird 'FBI' aura all around you ever since you met her."

Damn.

"Charlie, it's…it's a 'Big Brother' aura. You just met her yesterday. You can't really know her. You were still working through feelings for Amita two days ago. I just don't want you to get hurt."

Charlie stared. "I know, it all sounds crazy. Definitely an anomaly." His eyes darkened with feeling. "But I thought you could see…she wouldn't hurt me. She's the reason I don't hurt as much, anymore. And it's not just…" Charlie looked around, lowered his voice. "It's not just red dots. She is truly the most incredible woman I have ever met, she's so intuitive, so wise…." Charlie dropped his gaze to the table. "I do love Amita. I wish things could have worked, for us. On the surface, she and I have a lot more in common than Amy and I. But I've known Amita four years, and we have never connected on the same level that Amy and I did within three hours of meeting."

Damn. Damn.

None of this was Amy's fault. She helped put away some of the bad guys. They'd killed her partner, injured her. She had suffered at least as much as Charlie, and she had found a way to keep the irrepressible joy Don had tried not to see, at breakfast. In truth, he did like her. In truth, he would love to see Charlie with her, long-term. In truth, he could already see how much she was healing Charlie…and how much it would hurt him, when she disappeared, and he had to convince himself he hadn't really known her at all, she had just been using him for a shipboard fling.

Charlie was waiting for him to respond. He drained his coffee, made to get up from the table. "They're seating players," he said. "Let's go." As they both stood, he couldn't help himself, he gripped Charlie's arm, so hard that it pulled him a little off balance.

Charlie steadied himself on the table, turned apprehensive eyes to him. "What?"

Don let go of his arm. "Just be careful, Charlie." Don walked toward the casino, angry, and knew that Charlie was following him looking confused.

Damn. Damn. Damn.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Thoroughly embroiled in losing absolutely all the money they had, Don and Charlie missed dinner in the main dining room. Charlie, whose eyes betrayed every thought that went through his head, no matter how quickly it traveled, was shut out of the poker game early, but he stood with the group behind the table and watched. When his leg got tired, he would limp over to a slot machine, feed it a few more dollars, telling himself to stop. There was no mathematical theory in his favor here at all — none. His losses were small — he couldn't make himself do this very well, he'd rather go lose his money in the gift shop. But he didn't want to leave while Don was still playing. He glanced back over at the table. Don and two others, now. Nobody could out-bluff Don. This was just an interrogation room to him.

Charlie felt a touch on his arm and turned to see Amy.

"He's doing good, right?"

He smiled, led her away. "Yeah, he's kicking butt." They walked into the corridor, away from the noise.

"Did you know it's almost 9?"

His eyes widened. "No wonder I'm hungry. But I want to wait for Don. We'll go to one of the snack bars, or something."

She laughed. "My father played poker. When you told me you guys were playing in the tournament, I was pretty sure you'd be out for the rest of the day. You could still be here for hours. Disembarkation tomorrow morning will be crazy, and I just wanted to get a chance to say goodbye."

Charlie frowned. "It's so crowded, here…"

She giggled. "Not a long goodbye, Charlie, we already did that. I was just passing the casino on my way to meet Lisa, and I thought I'd say it again."

He leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. "I'm glad you did. I miss you already."

Her eyes clouded a little. "Me, too. Maybe we shouldn't have said we'd wait a week before we see each other again."

He touched her hair. "It's probably a good idea. I mean, we agreed that it was a good idea."

She straightened, smiled again. "It's only a week. Back teaching full-time, it will be hard for you to get everything done, anyway."

"I will do it," he promised, "and as soon as it's done, I'll call you." He sighed a litte. "It's important. It's time to pull myself together, and I want this relationship to get off to a good start."

"I know," she said simply, and her eyes clouded a little again before she grinned impishly at him. "You sure you have my number?"

"I'm sure," he answered. "I have a photographic memory for numbers, but I wrote yours down in three places, anyway."

She laughed and hugged him briefly, tightly. "See you next week," she whispered into his ear.

He watched her walk away, then turned back to the bar and casino, surprised to see Don standing a few steps outside.

"Did you win? I'm sorry, we've just been out here five minutes. I wanted to see you win."

Don smiled. "Haven't won, yet. We're taking a break. Everybody's chowing down on buffalo wings and nachos. Want some — or do you want to go with Amy?"

Charlie came toward him, waited for him to turn back toward the casino. "No, no, she was just saying goodbye again. We're going our separate ways, tonight. I'm starving."

"Leg's okay? This must be pretty boring, standing here watching me play poker."

"Just take 'em out, soon," Charlie said as they pushed through the crowd at the bar toward the food. "I wouldn't mind sitting around the cabin watching the movie on closed-circuit…"

Don grinned at him. "That's the plan. Let 'em get full, and sleepy, hit 'em with my best shot. Works every time."

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

They waited in another line, this one in sight of the parking lot at the pier.

"Do you see Dad?"

Don searched the lot, eyes bleary. If docking was at 6 a.m., why did they plan a poker tournament for the night before? He'd finally insisted Charlie go back to the cabin, threatened to quit if he didn't. Their bags had to be in the corridor by midnight, and his brother looked ready to fall asleep standing up. Don hadn't gotten to the room until almost 2, relieved not to see any last-minute red dots. He was glad neither one of them had to work until tomorrow. He smiled grimly. At least he had an extra thousand to show for his hard work.

He stiffened. No Alan. But he recognized the van, the suits standing next to it. He could see Amy looking at Lisa, could tell by her body language that she wasn't happy. She turned and searched the crowd, eyes lighting on him and Charlie. Deliberately, he turned to block Charlie's view, but he was looking down, reading a textbook Don hadn't realized he'd snuck onboard.

The line was moving, and he grabbed Charlie's elbow to encourage him forward. His brother grunted, but didn't look up from his book.

Don looked again at the parking lot. Amy's arms were crossed in front of her, she was allowing one of the agents to stow her luggage in the van. She looked back one more time, then followed Lisa into the van.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

**FINIS**

**A/N: Obviously, another trilogy in the works for you (evil grin)**


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